


White Rabbits and Sealing Tape

by Crown_of_Winterthorne



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist!Duo, First Time, Framer!Trowa, M/M, Take Your Fandom to Work Day, Tattooed Duo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crown_of_Winterthorne/pseuds/Crown_of_Winterthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owning a frame shop has its perks. Things like handling beautiful artwork and meeting cute artists.</p><p>Written for the Take Your Fandom to Work Day 2016 challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rabbits and Sealing Tape

**Author's Note:**

> Framing Terms and a few other notes found at the end.
> 
> The title is a nod to Alice and Wonderland ("Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--") for reasons that will become apparent.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [Cylina Nightshade.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylina/pseuds/Cylina%20Nightshade)

 Trowa was in the back when the bell to the front door went off. He'd not been in much of a mood to deal with anyone and would have preferred to stay in the back, his fingers covered with black wood putty and apron smudged with glue. But he was the only one in the store today—Catherine was at a wedding out of town and his only other employee had classes. Truancy officers tended to look down on making one's underage employees work instead of attend AP English.

Wiping his hands as best as he could on a shop towel, Trowa slipped on the white gloves he kept in his apron and put on his best "I really want to be here today" smile.

He almost choked on his standard welcoming spiel. The young man on the other side of the counter was stunning. Eyes that were more violet than blue, a wide smile punctuated with silver studs in both dimpled cheeks, black and red Giger-esque tattoos that climbed up his arms and thick chestnut hair all bound into a braid that reached past his thighs.

"Hey," he greeted, not noticing—or deliberately ignoring—Trowa's stunned silence. "I need to get some shit framed."

Trowa nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He could do this. He was a professional. "Yeah. Sure. Do you have the art with you?"

He did and it was almost as beautiful as the man himself.

"What are you thinking?" Trowa asked, laying weights on the corners of the 16" by 20" concert poster. It looked to be screen printed—maybe letterpress instead—signed as an artist's proof with a signature that read "Duo Maxwell." The colors were vivid, the illustration crisp and clean and the lettering carefully blocked out. It reminded Trowa of some Hatch Show posters he'd had come through a few months back. It was easier to fall back onto his professionalism if he focused on the artwork and not the man standing on the other side of his counter.

"The works," he answered quickly. Then frowned, hesitating. "Within reason. I'm selling it, so it needs to be nice, but I can't take a loss on it either."

"What's reasonable?" Trowa was already mentally calculating the prices for mats, glass and a nice frame. First timers usually had sticker shock when their idea of reasonable didn't match up with Trowa's.

"Under two-fifty."

"I can work with that," Trowa didn't let his relief show. For two hundred and fifty dollars, there was a lot of "within reason" they could do. Even a little bit of "fancy" was possible. "Anything particular in mind?"

"Black on black. Something really modern and clean."

Boring. But, Trowa supposed, if he was selling the poster then it was probably smart to stick to something basic. He flipped through his mat samples to find some slick black ones that were at least a little more unique than the standards. He could have found the black frame samples on auto-pilot. Just to his left, towards the top with their Velcro barely still attached. He should probably fix that.

"Are you the artist?" It was idle, also automatic. Most people didn't bother to frame prints that they were selling unless they were the artist.

"Yeah. Everyone's been after me to start selling prints, so..." he shrugged. "Guy who owns the gallery down the way—he's giving me some space."

"Quatre?"

"Yeah—he said to come see you. Said that you do good work."

Trowa smiled. It was true that his shop turned out the best quality in town and Quatre Winner rarely had a bad word to say about anyone. Well... usually. He wondered what the conservative blond would say about Duo if he asked.

"I like art almost as much as Quatre does. The difference is that he can paint and I can't. So I do this instead."

"D'you have your own chop shop?" Duo asked, unabashedly trying to peek past Trowa's shoulder into the shop. Not many people realized that he had to order his custom frames from a supplier. They came cut to length and ready to assemble.

"I'd like to," he admitted, laying the mat and frame samples down on one corner of the poster. "It'd be nice to keep a few of the more popular moldings on hand, but I just don't have the room. I do sell a few standard sizes that I build at home on the weekends."

"So your hobby is work?"

"One of them."

Shaking his head, Duo laughed and Trowa caught a glimpse of a black tongue stud. "And everyone tells me that I need to stop taking my work home with me."

"What do you do? Aside from the art?"

"More art, mostly," he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes sparkling. "This one was kind of a freelance thing for a friend."

"It's cool. Looks like Hatch Show."

Duo beamed. "That's what I was going for. Nobody else even knows Hatch Show."

"I didn't until someone brought in some posters."

"Aw, cool! I bet you get to see really awesome shit here."

"I do," Trowa agreed, wishing that he could let himself be distracted by Duo and conversation. He had too many orders waiting for him in the back to let that happen, so he gestured down to the samples. "What do you think?"

"It looks nice," Duo shrugged in the way that Trowa knew—from so many others—meant he didn't love the design. "I guess it doesn't really matter what I think. It's going in somebody else's house."

"You don't have to do something basic. Do you want something that will fit in anywhere or something that will stand out?"

"Honestly?" Duo stepped back, putting his hands in his back pockets. Trowa tried not to notice how sexy he looked with his hips thrust forward and his head tilted as he considered the artwork. "I want somebody to look at this and say 'holy fuck, I want that in my house.'"

"Let's do that then."

* * *

"Duo?" Quatre smiled into the phone receiver. Trowa couldn't see it but he could hear it. He knew Quatre that well. "He came in to see you? Good!"

"He did—I think you'll like what we picked," Trowa tucked his own phone between ear and shoulder as he pulled hanging wire through the d-rings on the back of a framed canvas. "I wasn't calling about that though."

"You weren't?"

"Not the poster, no." He clipped the hanging ends of the wire.

As expected, he didn't need to elaborate. Quatre knew him that well too. "But you are calling about Duo."

"Yes. I'm a little surprised that you're not holding his tattoos against him though."

"He's talented," was the only response. Trowa didn't press; he wasn't calling to hear his friend's regular diatribe against the tattoo shop next to his gallery.

"Is that all he is?"

Quatre laughed. "Oh, you're subtle. Yes, he's single. Yes, he's gay. Yes, he would go out with you if you asked."

"You're sure?" Trowa had been cautious ever since the incident with an engineering student a few months back. Keeping things professional had only been one reason he hadn't tried to flirt with Duo earlier.

"I'm positive. He called asking the same about you two hours ago."

* * *

Armed with the knowledge from Quatre, Trowa wasn't surprised when Duo was waiting outside the shop after closing. Locking the door behind him, Trowa gave him a smile that was only a little smug.

"What took you so long? You couldn't pick up the phone?"

"Harder for you to turn me down in person," Duo took a step towards him. "Quatre called me back. Told me you wouldn't anyway."

"Quatre needs to find a boyfriend of his own and stop playing matchmaker," Trowa snorted.

"Useful though," Duo shrugged. "And he's fucking my roommate."

"Fucking isn't the same as dating."

"Old fashioned?"

"A little," he conceded. "You?"

"I like both." Duo looked up at him through his bangs and heavy lidded eyes, dimples deepening. "If I buy you a drink, does that count as a date?"

Trowa smiled back, stepping into Duo's personal space and liking how much taller he was than the artist. There was nothing delicate about him but he was smaller and Trowa had always liked men he could wrap into an embrace. Duo didn't back down from him, leaned into his body without touching. He liked that too.

"Dinner is a date and I promise nothing."

* * *

Duo's choice of restaurant was a bar called Lucky's that was known for its food as much as it was for its drinks. Despite being a weeknight, it was loud, busy, and a little crowded even outside on the patio. The food that arrived at their table—surprisingly quickly—was delicious. The bread for Trowa's BLT was fresh baked and the bacon smoked on-site.

"How have I never been here before?" he wondered at loud, dipping a steak cut fry into Lucky's house-made sauce.

Duo laughed, flashing his dimpled smile and that tantalizing tongue ring. "It's good, right? I love this place. They're always packed. Lunch, dinner, late. Doesn't matter."

"So, how do you know Quatre?" Trowa asked. He'd known Quatre for years, even before opening the frame shop with his sister. He was a little surprised that he hadn't met Duo before now.

"My roommate, actually. Heero is—"

"Quatre's fucking _Heero Yuy_?" Trowa didn't bother to hide his shock. "When did that happen?"

There was drama there and Duo's eyes were positively dancing. "It's been about a month and a half now? I don't even know what happened. I'm not sure I want to."

"I know I don't," Trowa shook his head. "Jesus. He's been bitching about Heero and Ink ZERO ever since it opened."

"Yeah, I know. Heero's told me all about it. He's been my best friend since high school," Duo explained with a chuckle. "I moved back to town a few months ago when he offered me a space at the shop. I'm staying with him until I can find a place of my own."

"Small world." Trowa was amused by this turn of events. He'd had to listen to Quatre complain about the tattoo shop for the better part of a year—the distinct lack of those complaints in the last few weeks suddenly made sense. He was certain that he didn't want to know details and it was going to be safer to change the subject. "You tattoo, then? How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was old enough to work in a shop, just about," Duo answered, stealing one of Trowa's fries and dipping it in his cheesy soup. "Heero and I started together. We worked in a shop downtown—reception, cleaning up the shop, stuff like that—and when we left high school, Heero took an apprenticeship. I went to art school in California. Ended up at a little place that did letterpress and screen printing. I liked it, but not as a job. I spent a lot of time at tattoo shops, making friends with artists, getting my own work done... I ended up dropping out and getting an apprenticeship with the guy who did this—" he gestured to the Giger biomechanoids winding around his arms, "—and never wanted to go back. Been doing it for seven years now."

"You still do design work though. Like the poster."

"Yup. It's more fun that way." He shrugged, smiling a little, like he was aware that he was talking a lot but liking having an audience who was interested. "A few on the side projects like the poster, a couple of hand drawn logos. Nothing that would pay the bills."

"And now you're going to sell prints."

"Trial run. Heero's been after me to do it for years. Then Quatre saw some of my paintings—big six-foot acrylic monstrosities—and said he'd put them in the gallery. Heero told him about the posters and he wanted prints of those. Suggested I have one or two framed as artist's proofs too. Told me to see you."

"You only brought the one," Trowa pointed out.

"I want to see if it sells before I put in the expense of having the others framed." He leaned back in his chair, smiling over the top of his beer. "I'll have to bring in the others. I didn't realize that there would be perks to shopping at Barton Custom Frames."

"I can be... generous." He enjoyed seeing the way Duo reacted to the statement, so benign on its own, but made much more with a clever pause, a lowering of the voice. It made him wish that he'd been braver in the shop, had tried to flirt with Duo then. "I'd like to see the other posters. Your paintings too."

Duo's foot nudged his ankle. He smiled, eyes gone darker violet. "Heero's at Quatre's tonight. If you didn't want to wait."

He didn't.

* * *

It was a framer's curse. As soon as Trowa saw the posters—Duo really did want to show him his other prints—he started mentally designing. Considering and rejecting mats, fillets, frames in the back of his mind even as he studied and complimented Duo on the art itself. He had his favorite mats, knew their colors and textures—he loved the textured fabric mats—and which ones would look best against each print. There was a frame he liked but never got to use that would look good with this one. A simpler silver for that one. Something heavy and dark for a third. Triple mats with big margins. Double mats with a raised gap between them.

He knew Duo would let him design something unique, something to make his artwork pop out. That made his job more fun, more rewarding. Why do custom if the finished product was going to look like something everyone else had?

"Bring these in," he told Duo. "I know you're worried about expense, but I'll figure out some kind of package deal for you; I want to frame these."

"That's no way to run a business," Duo scolded, but Trowa could hear the tease.

"I'll deal with the wrath of my sister later. We cut Quatre bulk deals all of the time."

"I'm more worried that they won't sell and I'll have wasted the money." Trowa had thought that he was kidding earlier, but the insecurity was plain on Duo's face now. No wonder it had taken both Heero and Quatre to convince him to sell his work. How on earth could he bring himself to tattoo people permanently if he thought his work wasn't desirable?

"They'll sell. Duo, these are fucking beautiful."

"You're just saying that because you want to fuck me," he put the prints back into his artist's portfolio.

"I'd say that even if I didn't," Trowa reassured him. "I see a lot of art. And I know Quatre. He wouldn't take anything into his gallery unless he knew it would do well."

Duo smiled a little. His cheek piercings glinted in the dim light. "Heero says the same. And I... I know people like my work. There's just a big difference between someone saying they'd buy a print and actually doing it. Y'know?"

"I do," he nodded. He slid his arm around Duo's waist and drew him near, brushing his bangs back away from his face. Duo's arms went around his neck, fingers playing in the short strands of hair at his nape and Trowa couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that went through him. "And I want to buy one. If you don't mind?"

"I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm already going to let you fuck me," Duo frowned. "You can stop trying to bribe me now."

Trowa laughed, shaking his head. "No! No, I mean it. I want one."

"Which one?"

"The carnival midway. In the blue and orange."

"Okay. Okay, I guess. I'll even cut you a deal on the price." Duo leaned in, dropping his voice to a husky whisper. "I can be generous too."

"I'm sure you can," Trowa murmured, meeting him halfway for the kiss.

Duo's lips were soft, salty from all of the fries he'd stolen off of Trowa's plate, and they slid against Trowa's in an easy, lingering press. Neither made any demands on the other, not yet. They were gentle, cautious as they opened to each other, tongues slipping together in an exploratory caress before the two men pulled back.

"My bedroom's this way," Duo whispered, tilting his head in the direction of the hallway.

"Show me."

Duo took Trowa by the hand and led him into the crowded little bedroom. Boxes of art supplies were crammed in beside the small bed that was pressed up against the wall. The tiny desk in the corner was taken up by a 27" iMac, a pile of books and more art supplies. An Alice Cooper tee and a couple of studded belts were draped over the chair and a scanner/printer sat on the floor, half hidden by a tangle of cords.

"It's temporary," Duo sounded embarrassed. "Most of my stuff is in storage."

"I don't mind. We can go to my place next time."

"Next time?"

"I'm optimistic."

Duo smiled, shaking his head, and kissed him lightly. "I like optimistic. Like... I'm optimistic that we'll both fit on my bed and not break it."

Trowa wasn't quite so sure but was willing to try it out. He supposed as long as they didn't get too carried away...

He pulled off his shirt, gratified when Duo stared at him with hungry eyes and reached out to touch the lion rampant tattooed over his heart.

"I like this. Any others?"

"Just the one. For now." Trowa closed his eyes and exhaled as Duo flattened his palm over the inked skin. There had always been something intimate about letting anyone touch the tattoo, even if it wasn't particularly special. "What about yours?"

Duo smirked and let Trowa help him off with his own tee, stepping back into the dim light afforded by the small lamp clipped to the headboard. "I can turn the desk light on if you want."

"This is fine," Trowa shook his head, running curious fingers over the lines that twisted up and down Duo's arms. "Giger, right?"

"You know your art," he nodded, putting his own hands onto Trowa's hips. "They're illustrations from _Mystery of San Gottardo_. This is Dali—" he gestured to the colorful splashes along his left side.

" _Alice in Wonderland_ ," Trowa finished. "I framed one of the litho prints. A real one."

"Shit," Duo chuckled, "how'd I get lucky enough to find another art nerd?"

"I didn't mention that I have an art history degree, did I?" he asked.

"Fuck. No! Geez, Tro, lead with that next time."

"Noted." Trowa leaned down to kiss him again, tasting salt and beer and stainless steel. He'd never kissed anyone with cheek piercings before and he traced his tongue over the barbell ends before retreating.

Duo followed, kissing back as his hands found Trowa's waistband, thumb popping the top button. He pushed Trowa down onto the bed, straddling his lap and moaning when Trowa squeezed his ass. His tongue ring clicked against Trowa's teeth, deliberate and gentle.

Trowa groaned. He really wanted to know what Duo's mouth would feel like on his cock.

It certainly felt good on his throat, his shoulder, his chest. Baring more of his neck and leaning back on one hand, he closed his eyes, letting Duo lick and bite at his skin. He dipped his other hand down the back of Duo's jeans, pulling their hips closer and thrusting up against him. Duo ground down on him, arching his back and running his palms down his own chest. He unfastened his fly and Trowa was neither surprised nor displeased to see that Duo didn't wear underwear.

"Touch me," Duo said in a voice gone huskier than before.

"Like this?" Trowa drew his fingers in a line over Duo's ribs, tracing one ear of the monstrous white rabbit.

"Nnn. You know that's not what I meant."

"Like this, then," he pushed forward, abs crunching, and licked a stripe across Duo's chest. It earned him a moan and he laved the flat of his tongue over one nipple. He blew over the wetted skin, making Duo shiver. "No?"

"Fuck..."

Trowa smiled and kept teasing, no matter how badly he wanted to give in and wrap his hand around Duo's cock. Duo's soft moans were delicious. So was the way that he rocked against Trowa's erection, fingers digging into his shoulders for leverage.

"Please. C'mon," Duo panted, taking Trowa's hand and guiding it downwards. "Fuckin' touch me, baby."

"Kiss me first." Trowa barely got the words out before Duo's mouth was back on his, hungry and eager. Laughing into the kiss, he pushed his hand down the open front of Duo's black jeans and wrapped long fingers around his cock. His touch alone made Duo groan with pleasure; when he stroked him the groans turned into shuddery gasps.

"That's more like it..."

Trowa smirked, brushing his lips against Duo's pulse. "Are you always so impatient?"

"No, but I like to get even."

Trowa pushed him down onto the bed, hitching one of Duo's legs up around his hip. "I'm looking forward to it. Next time."

"Still optimistic," Duo laughed, wiggling underneath him until they were both comfortable on the small bed. "Gotta admit though... your odds are looking better and better."

"Mm. Good to hear," he pushed their hips together. Duo moaned, arching in a sinuous roll of his body that looked as good as it felt as he rubbed against Trowa.

Dropping kisses down the length of Duo's torso, Trowa caught hold of his jeans and pulled them down, Duo helpfully lifting his hips to let the fabric slide past his ass. There was another tattoo on his inner thigh—a dagger, lilies and a rosary—and Trowa gave a slow lick to the cross before hauling Duo's jeans the rest of the way down his legs. He dropped Duo's boots to the floor, one by one, then added the jeans and his socks to the pile.

"You're beautiful," Trowa stared down at him, spread out like a feast.

Duo smiled, putting his hands behind his head and beckoning with a jerk of his chin. "You're pretty gorgeous yourself, Tro. Do I get to see the rest?"

He could have teased again, could have given Duo a show, but Trowa didn't want to waste any more time. He had to work in the morning and Duo was too tempting besides. His work boots and the rest of his clothes joined Duo's on the floor.

Duo's gaze was hot as he raked a look up and down Trowa. "Wow."

Trowa knew how he looked. He hadn't been body shy since he was fifteen and started playing football. The muscle he'd put on back then had stayed with him thanks to hard work at the shop and the weights in his garage. He was still slim, but it was a runner's slim, a gymnast's or a swimmer's.

He also knew Duo wasn't just staring at his stomach or legs.

"Your odds of a next time just went through the roof," Duo threw a bottle of lube at him. Trowa caught it with a laugh and nodded, making a "turn over" gesture with his fingers.

Duo flipped onto his stomach, revealing yet more tattoos—an angel on one shoulder blade and a devil on the other. Trowa knelt behind him, flipping the cap open with his thumb and kissing at the curve of his spine.

He was gentle, quick but thorough, despite Duo's escalating pleas for more. It wasn't easy to keep his composure with that husky voice begging or the way Duo positively danced on his fingers. Coupled with the fact that he hadn't gotten laid in months, Trowa wasn't sure that he was going to be able to last.

"Please... please, baby," Duo dug his hands into the bedding. "I'm good. Please, just..."

"You're sure?" Trowa asked, his own voice gone low and rumbling. He bit at Duo's hip, adding a clever twist of his wrist as he worked his fingers in and out. Duo moaned deep in his throat, pressing back.

"Yes. Yes, please... Please... just..." He all but thrust the box of condoms back towards Trowa. "Fuck me. Please, Tro."

He might have said please, but Trowa was fairly certain that if he tried to make Duo wait any longer than the time it took to put the condom on, Duo was going to take matters into his own hands. So to speak.

He didn't make him wait.

Duo's body sheathed him like a glove. Trowa buried his face against Duo's neck, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing hard, trying to remember how to breathe. Too long, it had been too long. He had to go slow, had to keep himself in check if he wanted this to last longer than thirty seconds. It was some of the most beautiful agony he'd ever felt.

Trowa didn't speak, but he didn't have to. Duo was saying the words for him. "So good. You feel so good, baby..."

They moved together like it wasn't the first time, with pretty, dirty things dripping from Duo's lips the whole time. He sat up on his knees, leaning back against Trowa and lolling his head back against one of those broad shoulders, slipping one hand up around the back of Trowa's neck, sliding into his short hair. Trowa held him closer in response, burying his face into Duo's hair, one arm solidly around his chest, the other around his waist, hand dropping lower.

Duo keened as Trowa's hand circled his cock, firm and slow in his strokes.

"Are you close?" Trowa lipped his thrice-pierced earlobe, licked the tiny bat tattooed just behind it. So many secret tattoos; he wanted to lay Duo out and map them all with lips and tongue and fingers.

"So... So close..."

"Tell me."

Duo shuddered, dropping forward onto his elbows and hanging his head. His words were nearly lost on each gasp for breath, rhythmic and punctuated with a groan every time Trowa thrust into him.

Trowa curled over his back, wanting to touch as much skin as possible. Duo felt hot to the touch outside as well as in. He pressed his lips to the devil on Duo's shoulder, tasting sweat. Salt. He didn't think he'd ever taste salt quite the same way again without thinking of Duo.

He bit down lightly on Duo's neck, smiling at his moan. "Okay?"

"H-Harder..."

Trowa chuckled, dark and deep. It was too easy. "What harder? This?"

He bit down again, just enough to leave the faintest of imprints. Duo moaned again, louder, appreciative. He dug his fingers into the bedding as Trowa straightened up, grasping his hips and fucking into him harder.

"Or this?"

"Tro... Jesus, Tro..." There was a laugh there, caught on the tail end of a sigh. "Fuck, yeah..."

Trowa licked his lips, half-smiling, and tossed his bangs out of his face with an impatient shake of his head. It was easy to be confident with Duo. Teasing felt like second nature, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It had been a very long time since Trowa had felt so in sync with a lover.

There would definitely be a next time. He was sure of that.

He slid one hand along Duo's spine. The heated grip of his body was perfect, the way his fine muscles flexed and arched was beautiful, tattoos dancing as he lifted his hips to meet Trowa.

Faster. Harder. Deeper.

Trowa bit back a groan, sinking teeth into his bottom lip. He needed. _Wanted_.

"Touch yourself," he breathed, less of a request, more of an order. He wasn't sure which way that he meant it. Only that the sooner Duo came, the sooner he could let himself do the same and his body was very rapidly nearing its end.

If Duo minded Trowa's tone, he didn't protest, just wrapped a hand around himself and stroked. He shuddered under Trowa, muttering and gasping encouragement, his pleas peppered with curses. It was enough to make Trowa wish that he could see Duo's face, watch him screw up his features into agonized ecstasy as he fell silent but for a long, soft whine.

"You're perfect," Trowa shook his head, panting at the wonderful heat and tightness convulsing around him. He was close, closer. "A fucking work of art..."

Duo might have laughed then. Might have just moaned louder. Trowa couldn't hear much beyond the blood in his own ears, rushing, beating in time to his heart. He came hard, harder than he'd expected, found his vision greying around the edges as he spilled himself, gripping Duo's hips and grinding out his name.

It took the last of his willpower to keep from simply collapsing on top of Duo.

* * *

"Looks like the bed survived."

Duo laughed, tossing Trowa a clean, wet washcloth. He had two bottles of water tucked under one arm and was unashamedly nude. "I don't know if I should be impressed with the bed or disappointed with us."

"We could give it a second round, but I have to be up early," Trowa snorted, quickly giving himself a once-over with the cloth. "And there is not enough room in this bed for disappointment."

"You're right," Duo scooted into the little bed beside him. "Applause for all parties involved."

"Are you always this... _this_ after sex?"

"Only when it's good." He said it with a dark little smile that made Trowa wish they could have a second go around. He still hadn't gotten to feel that clever mouth on his cock.

Instead he gave Duo a pleased smile of his own. "So my place next time?"

"Only if your bed is bigger."

"And sturdier," Trowa promised. "Worthy of a standing ovation."

Duo laughed, lightly shoving Trowa with his shoulder. He handed him one of the bottles of water. Trowa drank deep, the liquid cool and revitalizing.

"So... I know it's a tight fit and you said you have to be up early," Duo rubbed the back of his neck, looking away, "but do you want to stay?"

"I'd like that. Yes."

"Yeah? Good. I mean... good." Duo's smile was soft, sweet. Trowa leaned in and kissed him.

"Good."

* * *

It _was_ a tight fit, but somehow they managed. Trowa took the outside so that he could leave early without disturbing Duo and spooned around the other man's smaller frame. They drowsed, talking softly as Trowa traced the shadows climbing Duo's arms, the details of the tattoos lost to the darkness.

"... gets drunk and buys art online. I've probably sold a few thousand dollars worth of frames to him so far. Nice guy. Good taste."

"Even when he's drunk?" Duo sounded disbelieving.

"So far," Trowa shrugged. "The Picasso litho was pretty cool."

"I'm still more impressed with the Dali."

"Mm. Me too. It was beautiful." He nuzzled Duo's hair, inhaling the sweet smell of his shampoo. They were both relaxed, drifting, voices lazy.

"Which one was it?"

"The caterpillar."

"Nice. I like the rabbit better. Obviously."

"Obviously." Trowa found Duo's hand, laced their fingers together. "Why Alice?"

"It's more about the White Rabbit," he yawned, snuggling back against Trowa. "And Jefferson Airplane."

He smiled; Duo was nearly asleep. "Tell me sometime?"

"Yeah. I will."

* * *

It didn't take long the next day for Trowa to wish that he had simply stayed in bed with Duo and ignored all of his adult responsibilities. It might have been worth Cathy's ire if it meant that he didn't have to deal with a constant barrage of "it's cheaper over at—" and "I paid less for the art!" and—his new favorite—being told to his face "gee, this is quite a racket you have going on here."

That was in addition to discovering one of the frames that came in was the wrong size and would need to be reordered. Worse yet, it was due to his mistake. He supposed that was better than if Mariemaia had misordered—the girl was meticulous and tended to take it pretty hard when she made a mistake—but it was nonetheless frustrating. He could only hope that it wasn't the harbinger to a rash of mismeasurements. Those things came in packs.

Really, the only thing positive about his day—besides a quick breakfast with Duo—had been the series of texts that Duo sent him around lunchtime. It started with a selfie taken at ZERO, Duo gesturing over his shoulder at the two men in the background. Heero was in a sleeveless black shirt, heavily tattooed with koi fish and colorful blossoms, his dark hair wild as he kissed Quatre. Quatre, with his pressed white shirt, light grey slacks and neatly combed platinum hair.

Trowa hadn't realized that he'd doubted Duo's word until he saw the photo. He texted:

_Holy shit._

**Duo:** RIGHT!?

 **Duo:** Btw, Quat's all kinds of smug about you  & me

_Not for long, once I tell him that I know about Heero._

**Duo:** Haha! Can I be there for that?

_Are you kidding? I'm telling him over the phone from a nice safe distance._

A few minutes later, Duo sent an image of a chicken. Trowa laughed, the sound loud in the quiet of the empty shop.

_Damn right. Have you SEEN Quatre angry?_

**Duo:** Well i do work with heero, sooo... Tbh i think it's fucking foreplay at this point

Trowa smirked. He scrolled through the image gallery on his phone until he landed on the picture of the Dali litho, framed neatly in black and white. He sent it to Duo without a message, murmuring to himself, "Speaking of foreplay..."

 **Duo:** Jesus that's beautiful. I'm fuckin jealous, Tro

_I meant to show you last night, but we did get... Distracted._

**Duo:** Ha. That's one way to put it

 **Duo:** Dinner 2nite? You can show me more

Trowa didn't think that he meant more artwork. Or at least, not entirely. He sent back:

_What time do you get off tonight?_

The double entendre was intended and from Duo's response—Trowa could practically hear that sly voice in his ear—it was more than appreciated.

 **Duo:** A lot sooner than you. I told you i like to get even

Trowa thought that sounded like a lot of fun. They sent a few more messages back and forth, deciding on a place for dinner and agreeing to meet there at seven. The rest of his work day didn't get much better, but at least he had something to look forward to later.

* * *

Two weeks later saw Duo and Trowa out on three more dates and having sex on an additional two occasions, including once in the alley behind the frame shop when Trowa was supposed to have been doing paperwork after close.

Duo was really something of a bad influence, but Trowa couldn't bring himself to care. He'd spent the majority of his life being responsible and if Duo inspired a little freedom and irreverence, he couldn't see how that was a bad thing. He found it easier to deal with the stresses of the shop, knowing that Duo would be on the other end of his phone later, ready to swap stories about customers or suggest a night out. Or a night in.

Cathy noticed his lighter demeanor, commented on it casually in that ridiculous "big sister" way of hers that she had never dropped, not even after he'd outsized her by nearly a full foot in the tenth grade. He didn't dare to introduce her to Duo and subject him to the Spanish Inquisition.

He wasn't sure if their relationship was actually a relationship yet but he had no intention of letting Catherine scare Duo off either.

The production schedule in the shop had been tight enough that he hadn't been able to put Duo's order together as soon as the frame came in, so it was nearing the end of those first two weeks when he finally got to it. It was, he considered, a good way to end them.

Laying out the mats, layering them over the artwork, Trowa's good mood was buoyed by the fact that he really was just that good at his job. The colors in the mats looked fantastic on their own, the three of them chosen specifically to draw out the details of the poster, and when Trowa put them on top of the print, it was magic. Usually it was Catherine muttering "pretty, pretty" when she was especially pleased with a design, but now Trowa found himself doing the same thing, emphasized by a few "goddamns" in the process.

The frame, a subtly textured one in red, finished everything off. Rather than a riot of color, the framed print was a barely contained burst of energy. There had been two solid options Trowa had shown to Duo: a turquoise frame with mats in cool colors, greens and blues topped by crisp white, and the selection they'd gone with. The reds and oranges were vibrant and exciting, calmed by a white mat on top, and perfectly suited to the mood of a concert poster.

Trowa might have been a bit biased since those were his favorite colors, but seeing the finished product he was confident in his recommendations to Duo.

He made sure that there was no dust trapped between the art and glass, backed it with grey paper, added hanging wire and slapped the store's "produced by" label on the back. It occurred to him that Duo might want to think about adding a label of his own or tucking a certificate of authenticity into a paper pocket.

He wrapped the frame up in brown paper more carefully than he normally might have—what good were careful corners when he would only have to open it up again at the counter to show the customer?—and attached the paperwork. With a little smile he called Duo on the store phone, secretly pleased when it went to message and he could leave his oft-repeated spiel.

"This is a message for Duo Maxwell. This is Trowa from Barton Custom Frames and I'm calling to let you know that we have your order ready..." He finished with giving the store hours and phone number, then hung up and waited.

It was about twenty minutes and halfway through another order when the phone rang. Trowa answered in a smooth and pleasant voice. Duo's response did not disappoint.

"You ass. I bet you think that was pretty clever, acting all fucking professional like that."

"I have to do something to make the day go by faster," he smirked, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear so that he could keep working.

"I like it better when you send me pictures of art. Or you."

"I'm not sexting you at work," he rolled his eyes. "Besides, Mariemaia will be here in twenty minutes. I'd rather not end up on a list."

Duo chuckled, the sound suddenly genuine rather than sensual and Trowa thought he liked that side of the man as much as—if not more than—his teasing side. "No, I don't want that either. Hey, listen, I don't get out of here until nine, but I was thinking we could go to the movies?"

The next day was Sunday and both shops would be closed. The idea of a late night out followed by a late breakfast in bed was extremely appealing. "I get out of here at six. I can bring your frame to you before Quatre closes at six-thirty. Then meet you at the movie later?"

"I didn't know you delivered." The teasing tone was back and Trowa could picture the flashes of Duo's dimples as he spoke.

"Perks to shopping at Barton Custom Frames, remember?"

"Right, right. Whose turn is it to buy?"

"I'll buy the popcorn and candy if you'll buy the tickets," Trowa offered. "I assume you want to see Deadpool?"

"You assume right."

The door to the shop front chimed and Trowa tamped down a sigh. The worst part about dealing with customers was the customers. If he was lucky it would be a pick-up. If he was unlucky... well, he'd have a good story to tell Duo later. Like the old lady earlier who seemed to think that "smudgy" and "fairy green" were helpful descriptions when what she really meant was "texture" and a muted yellow-green.

"I've got to go," he told him. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Yeah, no, sure. Hey, wait—how does it look?"

Trowa glanced out to make sure the customer wasn't at the counter yet and pitched his voice low enough that he wouldn't be overheard. "It's fucking beautiful."

Duo laughed. "I can't wait."

* * *

If Duo was pleased with how his art looked in its new frame—and judging by the kiss he laid on Trowa, he certainly was—then Quatre was absolutely ecstatic. While Duo returned to the tattoo shop next door, Quatre made Trowa help him hang it on one of the gallery walls. He also made Trowa first help make a space for it by rearranging everything that was already hung on the wall.

"Consider it revenge for all of the comments about Heero and me."

"After all of the complaints I had to listen to?" Trowa didn't have to act insulted, though he might have played it up a little more than was necessary. "How many times did I hear 'Heero is a selfish asshole' and 'that shop is tearing down the property values, I don't care how high-end he claims it is?' Or my favorite, 'those tattooed freaks are scaring my customers away.'"

"I didn't say that!"

"It's what you meant to say."

Quatre sighed. "Yes, well. Now I'm one of the tattooed freaks too."

That was surprising, considering the argument that had resulted when Quatre had originally disparaged ZERO's clientele and employees as a "bunch of reprehensible miscreants," forgetting that his best friend was tattooed. Trowa's curiosity won out over his irritation.

"What did you get?" he asked.

Instead of telling him, Quatre unbuttoned and rolled up his left sleeve, showing Trowa the small Khamsa hand inked in black on his wrist.

He sounded contrite as he said, "Heero did it for me six weeks ago."

"I like it," Trowa reassured him. "It suits you."

"You think so?"

"I do."

Quatre smiled apologetically and started to roll his sleeve back down, then thought better of it and rolled the other one up to match, leaving the tattoo visible. "I like him a lot, Trowa. I've been stupid and narrow-minded this whole time. He's really... quite kind. He's still a selfish asshole, but he's kind."

"I could say the same about you," he smiled back. "You're vicious when you want to be."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know I've been... frustrating, to say the least, over the last year."

"There's nothing to forgive."

"Thank you," Quatre nodded, the relief visible in the way his shoulders relaxed and the tightness around his eyes vanished. His more upbeat self appeared and he said, "What about you and Duo? It seems like you're getting along well."

"It's only been two weeks, Quatre."

The blond gave him a significant look. "I saw that kiss. And the way you two looked at each other. I don't know Duo well, but I know he wears his emotions on his sleeve. And I do know you."

Trowa looked away, his gaze automatically going to the print he had just hung, and folded his arms over his chest. He didn't answer for a long while, knowing Quatre would be patient. Knowing that Quatre already knew his feelings about the other man.

Falling fast and hard was his specialty.

"I don't want to fuck this one up," he admitted. "He makes me happy."

Quatre's smile was gentle as he leaned into his friend's side, looking up at the print too. "Good. You deserve it. We both do."

* * *

After the movie, Duo parked his beat-up Honda behind the other man's immaculate silver truck in the driveway of the little Craftsman house. Rather than immediately following Trowa inside, he detoured to pull an art tube from the trunk and poked him in the shoulder with it.

"I brought you something. A gift."

Trowa smiled, taking the tube. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Signed and numbered. Just like I'm a real artist."

"You _are_ a real artist," Trowa shook his head at Duo's self-depreciation. He pulled him close, kissed him softly. "Thank you for this."

"Yeah, well," he smiled too, putting his hands on Trowa's chest, "I know a guy who can frame it for you real nice."

"Yeah?"

"Mm. Does all my stuff. Even lets me behind the counter to look at frames."

Trowa laughed. "I complain too much about people doing that, don't I?"

"Nah, not so much," Duo looked up at him, stroking Trowa's bangs out of his face even though it was too dark to see his eyes clearly. "I don't mind. You talk to me about art too. And y'know. You're fucking gorgeous."

"I knew you only liked me for my body," he teased, knowing that he was blushing and not caring. He was reminded of how easy it was with Duo, the meshing of their personalities and the way they complemented each other.

"Gonna hold it against me?"

Trowa groaned, pulling away and laughing at the awful pun. He snagged Duo's hand and led him up the walkway, shaking his head. "Come on. You're lucky I'm willing to hold anything against you after that."

"Oh, please. You walked right into it," Duo was laughing too.

As Trowa unlocked the front door and flipped on the front light, he had a realization that should have been more unsettling than it was. He'd owned the house for almost three years now, but with Duo next to him, it felt like home. Felt it in the way that Duo kicked off his boots and nudged them into the row beside the door with his toe. In the way Duo preceded him into the living room, stretching his arms above his head and glancing over his shoulder before dropping in a comfortable sprawl across the sofa. In the way he reached back to turn on the lamp without needing to look, like he was more comfortable in Trowa's house than he was Heero's apartment.

Duo didn't comment on Trowa's thoughtful expression, but he knew that the other man had noticed. Instead, Duo asked, "Do you want to order pizza? I know a place that delivers this late."

Trowa nodded, setting the art tube on the little table that served as a catch-all for his keys and the mail. "Sure."

It felt like there was more to their date nights than ending up in bed. Something domestic and safe. Something that he'd wanted for years but could never quite find. He'd reminded Quatre that he was prone to falling too quickly in love but seemed to have forgotten that himself.

Duo looked up at him and he realized that he'd been standing in the foyer for too long, silent and contemplative. "Tro?"

He smiled, shook his head. "Nothing."

But maybe... given time...

Everything.

—END—

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author Confessions:** I won't tell you if I've worked at an independent frame shop or one of the big boxes, but some things are universal. With the exception of Hatch Show, I've framed all of the prints Trowa talks about with Duo. And yes, we did have a regular customer who would get drunk and buy art online. He was a lovely, sweet man with very good taste. 
> 
>  **Framing Terms:**  
>  Sealing Tape: Foil tape used to line the rabbet of a frame. This is used to protect both the frame from moisture and bugs and to keep the acid in the wood from leeching into the mats/artwork.
> 
> Rabbet: The lip of a frame that keeps the glass/artwork in place.
> 
> Mat: The paper board placed over (or under) the artwork. They come in lots of different colors, materials and are meant to 1, add design interest to the art and 2, protect the art work. It keeps it from touching the glass and it helps pull dust away. Mats should always be acid-free.
> 
> Fillet: a piece of thin decorative trim that can be fit to the inside of a frame or matting. Purely decorative, imo.
> 
> Molding: Another name for the frame itself, but generally refers to the long pieces that need to be cut (chopped) to size before being joined into a frame.
> 
>  **Other:**  
> [Hatch Show Print:](http://hatchshowprint.com/) A graphic design and printing company out of Nashville. They are one of the few places that still use moveable type and old fashioned letterpress printers. The print that Duo gives to Trowa is actually a Hatch Show design.
> 
> [Mystery of San Gottardo](http://io9.gizmodo.com/the-movie-that-h-r-giger-spent-decades-trying-to-make-1603337368), by HR Giger.
> 
> [Down the Rabbit Hole](http://www.williambennettmodern.com/artists/dali/pieces/DALI1003.php), by Salvador Dali.
> 
> Art Tubes: Also known as [mailing tubes.](http://www.officedepot.com/mb/a/products/690454/Office-Depot-Brand-White-Mailing-Tubes/fromLocalBrowse=false;jsessionid=0000TXKzsVak0k_HB1QY2ikFjzN:17h4h7b45) I hate them with a passion because when art is left in them too long, the art gets all curly and refuses to lay flat. Makes it super hard to work with.
> 
> Any other questions, feel free to ask me in the comments!


End file.
